


Forced Encounter

by PRabbit



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: M/M, raaawrbin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-04
Updated: 2013-06-04
Packaged: 2017-12-14 00:14:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/830482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PRabbit/pseuds/PRabbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Noob Spy and Stalker Sniper meeting with Sniper being his creepy self. Characters are by Raaawrbin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forced Encounter

Fire caught him at once. No chance to even cloak not that he would have recognized the needed. Hind sight being 20 – 20 he cursed the spot he had decided to hide in. A shallow corner in a small wooden shed, yet close to the health pack should he need it. Open enough to see a target coming. He thought it perfect. After all, his job remained to confuse, to sneak and use the element of surprise. Flames peeled off his skin he lay on the ground screaming only to open his eyes in the bright respawn room. A feeling he’d never get used even with the frequency. 

Knees weak he took a few steps forward. Back into the fray back into the, what was that? A rocket explosion close, just outside. Shouts from the other team taunting. Legs shaking he cloaked. Ahead the automatic door zipped up as he inched out. A direct hit from a Scout, scattered bullets tearing off most of his face. Again in the respawn room he sat seeing other members charge out fighting. He had to try again. Hard to smoke with a blood soaked cigarette. 

Success. He ran out and managed to find a suitable spot to duck in before his watch ran out of juice. Watching, waiting he tried to pick the best time to strike. All plans fell to the dusty ground when he noticed a small red dot at his feet. It rose, slowly up his leg as he stood stunned. Further it traveled until lingering on his crotch. In a panic he ran. Any way would do. He did not want his tenders to be shot off by some sadistic bushman. A rock ended his journey. Head in the dirt he coughed away the small cloud he had produced. Dot gone he now had something worse to worry about.

“Fallin on you’re pansy ass, sally?”

A strong hand dragged him to his feet by the collar. The other hand clutched a shotgun ready to fire into his defenselessness frame.

“You are not welcome in my world!”

He shook, not out of fear but from the embarrassment of being sent to the respawn room again. Head turned to the side and eyes closed he waited for the inevitable blast. Instead a voice cracked through the battle.

“Victory! BLU team wins!”

Before him the Soldier fled in fear of retaliation from the win. The Spy didn’t pursue. His team won. Not from any of his help. He fell to his knees as his teammates celebrated. It was a long walk to the mess hall. 

Even though going into his third month at the base he sat alone at a table in the corner. Peas and potatoes. That he could stomach though he tried not to look at the puddle on his plate. However the mystery blob of meat would never touch his stomach. Not wanting to risk hearing jests tossed his way, he finished quickly and left for his room.

Alone at last. Removing his shoes onto a mat by the door he sat on the bed. A small room with the basics. Dresser, bed, table. Just enough for a man to get by. He smiled thinking about the last place he slept back in Europe. Truly America has all the opportunities. The mattress squeaked as he lay down. Quite the night to stare up at the ceiling. Cool with a nice breeze. Eyes closed.

Go to the range and practice; a good idea before. He remembered thinking about having a good opportunity to at least learn something. Nothing but jeers and failed hits on targets. In his rested state he scowled before rolling into his back. Another long afternoon. The sun set as he tried to focus on something, anything to keep his thoughts from racing through his phone book of mishaps. 

Only a few birds singing. Crossing his arms he listened to them sing then stop. Stop? A creak, foot steps. At least he was skilled enough to hear the presence of a person outside his window. In a jump his feet touched the floor. The window hung low over the head of his bed. He preferred to leave it open for the fresh air. Running now, boots against rock and sand. Who ever it was they didn’t seem too keen on staying hidden.

Sticking his head out, he saw prints on the ground and followed them up to the back of a Sniper disappearing between two buildings. A RED Sniper. Stunned the Spy sat back down, confused. With his current cigarette a nub he lit a new one, two to be exact. Teammates bashing him, failure following him around; and now the other team may be trying to sneak into his room. A sigh and a long drag. 

Once again the ceiling took his forced focus. Window now shut he lay weary, feeling the room grow stuffy with the trails of smoke from his nose. Tomorrow can only get better. Or worse.

\----

“Stand on zee point, dummkopf!”

For once the Spy managed to keep up with his team and found himself huddled around the corner near a capture point. Bullets rang and explosions shook as he darted up to the Medic’s side, not wanting to disappoint. After a glare from the good doctor he waited, never having been on a point for more than a few seconds. With a ding and an announcement they stood successful, at least for this point. Smiling he looked around. Nothing could stop him today.

“Vhat are you still doing here? Go! Stab some snipers! Raus raus!”

Before he understood what he was doing the Spy found himself skirting around a building into a thin alley way. A miracle to remember his cloaking watch, another to avoid an enemy Engineer charging back to his nest. There’s an idea: sap something. Taking out his instrument, he tip-toed over to get a better look. The fully upgraded, rocket launching sentry fired on his team’s Heavy reducing him to a puddle. Mouth agape, his cigarette fell to this floor.

Perhaps another target. Above cracked the firing of rifle and a cruel laugh. The Sniper. Easy enough, so he told himself. Cloak, sneak in and stab. He repeated those words over and over as he climbed the stairs. The room seemed foreign. He never considered going onto the roofs or upper floors of buildings. And as and inexperienced Spy he felt too unsure to take on a Sniper.

Each step creaked out of his own fault. At the top of the stairs he froze. The room sat dark aside from light creeping through boarded windows. The smoke and dust of battle all but stayed away from this place save for the periodic rumbles from the squalor outside. On the far side sat the Sniper. He had taken one of the crates stored in the building as a seat while he aimed out. The expected equipment lay around him on other boxes. Jars, both full and empty, with a sinister looking kukri. Though not near the man’s hand the Spy knew the bushman could turn in an instant and jam it through his chest.

He had to move quickly but found his legs creeping along, closer to the engaged Sniper. Knife already out he griped the handle hard, the tip raised ready to strike. A moment’s hesitation left him staring at his target turning, eye contact made. The world moved in slow motion. He watched his arm getting grabbed, the knife dropping. Another hand on a shoulder. 

He pressed back, trying to resist. Why didn’t he grab his kurki? A small favor. They stayed embraced this way, hands on each other until the stronger bushman pushed him up against the wall. The space held shadows and looking up at his target’s darkened face the Spy knew his end was near. Closer he pinned him until the Spy had no choice but to look up through orange aviators.

“G’day luv!”

Reality snapped back in, replaced with something even stranger. Under the teeth rimmed hat the Sniper grinned down, a soft smile on an otherwise rugged face. The hand on the Spy’s shoulder moved up to his neck.

“Yeh don’t know me, but Oi know you.”

The statement ended in a longing tone. It was enough that the Spy could hold on to his cigarette between his teeth. He suddenly felt very uncomfortable. 

“W, wha?”

Another man in front of him, holding all the power, staring into his eyes. Flat up against the wall the Spy wanted more than anything to be back in his room, even if it meant a loss, a humiliation. The smile came closer. Warm breath against his face. What did he want, to torture? To show to the rest of his team just how much of a failure the Spy he caught was? Mind racing, he closed his eyes and waiting, lips mouthing two words. Finish me. 

Pressure released. The hand on his arm fell to the Sniper’s side while the one on his neck lingered, fingers sliding off gradually. Eyes opened again he looked up at the taller man and swallowed. An opportunity. He didn’t understand but he listened to his body. Legs took off, sprinting toward the steps but failed to coordinate with the rest of the muscles. Down he went only a few meters away only to scramble onto his back, trying to get up.

Foot steps. He saw the Sniper closing in, a hand out. Yet still no cruel sneer, no narrowed eyes, just a smile. 

“You ok, mate? Need some help?”

Afraid to even answer the Spy crawled over to the exit. Finding his feet at last he ran down and back into the alley way. Not even looking back, he didn’t see the Sniper reaching out but heard the last of his words as he darted out of the door frame.

“Be seein’ yeh”

They repeated over and over in his head while his chest tried to supply enough oxygen to his panicked frame. What? Why? His mind never had the time to piece any puzzle together for as soon as he lifted his head he saw a grenade moments from detonation bouncing toward his position.

 

\--------

They lost. It had been a tough battle but blame fell on his drooped shoulders. Smoke trailed in lazy spurts, higher and higher only to be dispersed by the ceiling fan. Hours after the sun set the Spy wandered into the common room. Beer bottles peppered the floor. Whatever card game had been played was long over. He sighed, sitting alone in the corner on a ragged folding chair. Sleep escaped him as it did on most nights. A near chuckle. Failed to back stab, failed to sap, failed to doge, yet he became perfectly accustomed to insomnia. 

Silence gripped the empty rooms and halls. It never bothered him. No bullets zipping by, not even a rocket. His suit sat free of fire and his skull remained free of holes. Taking a full seat, the Spy leaned back with his tea. One bad thing about nothing to distract you is when your brain decides to pitch in and help. At once he thought of the Sniper pinning him against the wall. Legs crossed out of involuntary reaction. 

I know you. What did he mean? The Spy had never met a Sniper let alone that one. His own team seemed to not need one. Like a friend he walked up to him. No weapon in hand. Then got, horribly close. The Spy shuddered from the memory of his breath and wide eyes staring into his. Like trading one humiliation for another.

Giving a long sigh, he glanced out the window in an idle stare. The Sniper sat up in his nest with his job. And the Spy had his, well, job. Not taking his supposed skill into question, their paths would rarely cross unless forced. Eyes went wide at the memory of the Sniper outside his window that night. Keep positive. The man was not a Spy. He couldn’t pick his lock or sneak in. Right?

Just then a sound caught his attention. Near falling off the chair, the Spy saved what tea remained in his mug by placing it on the small table. A close rattle near the window. Darkness prevented catching whatever source but one, clear sound made him sure it was human: the click of a camera. Already tense, muscles begged to return to his room. As if he was safe there. Instead he backed against the wall, staying away from the view of the window. Not another sound but another sign. On the far wall shone a bright, red dot. No, not a dot. I bore the shape of a small heart.

“The hell you doin’, scaredy cat?”

So engrossed with the laser on the wall, the Spy failed to hear the Scout making his way down the hall. The nearest door led into the kitchen and the Frenchman found himself looking into a glare. Behind the unhinged youth the light flicked on.

“I was, well,’ The Spy looked back at the wall to see the heart gone. “Did, did you see-“

“Maybe the reason you die all the time is cause yah never freakin sleep.”

Ignored, the Spy didn’t press the matter further. Best not to upset the murdering 20 some year old who revels far too much in dismembering his targets. He clammed up and watched the Scout enter the kitchen. Weariness claimed his paranoid form and he collapsed on the chair again, just wanting to relax.

A few clamors from the Scout fixing a midnight snack. Better than hearing footsteps outside. Tea now cold, he still took a few sips. The flash of his lighter sparked a much needed cigarette to life. Puffing, he frowned. Eyes closed only to shoot open again. Amid the din of the runner trying to boil water a light hung in the room. More specifically in the middle of his forehead. He stared at it as best he could. Right between the eyebrows. A bright, red heart. 

His frown grew deeper. Ash fell from his cigarette to the floor. Should he move? Should he just lay down and die? Shoot me already. As he stared with sad eyes, the laser trailed down his face to his neck. Slow and lingering, it dropped further until pausing between his legs. Jumping out of the way he cupped his privates and ran into the hallway. A slow sulk back to his room awaited him, avoiding every window and twitching at every sound. 

From behind the Scout laughed hard at his team’s pathetic Spy.

\-------

Fire grazed his torso before a rocket took out of source. A stroke of luck. Fumbling with his sapper he cloaked. Just around the corner the Engineer set up his nest, distracted. Until a certain Spy dropped his sapper on the ground. Though still cloaked the shot gun did a number on his ability to walk let alone sabotage. Thankfully the Engineer had other matters to worry about then a pathetic, wounded Spy with out a sapper. He heard it crunch under the Texan’s boot as he huddle in a corner of crates and metal drums.

Watch running out of power, he sighed. Not much he could do now. His team pressed on, offering him cover. Just in time, for his cloak hissed around him in a cloud before disappearing. Now exposed, he decided to look for a medi kit. The Spy creeped along, wary of anything RED. Back to the wall he made it to the opening of a small shack. Inside sat a kit and enough safety. Yet his chest tensed up, legs refusing to enter. 

In the shadows of the building on the wall just above the medicine hovered a red heart. Not again. Please not again. It moved down to the kit then over to him. Not about to stay there, the Spy ran. A few stickies ended his current life. Onto the next. This time he was determined to sap something, even an abandoned teleported. Nearing enemy territory he paused to cloak. 

Now his form stood unseen, aside for one cold fact: a shining, little red heart sat on his forehead, still and patient. When he backed up, it found him. When he pressed against the wall in desperation, it followed. In a panic, he ran out into the clearing. 

With a fumble, the Spy applied a sapper in a rush to a dispenser. The machine fizzed and churned but was ultimately saved. Bullets ended another life, fired from the pistol of an angry Engineer.

The hot lights in respawn did nothing to calm his frantic breathing. Again the Spy went out and again he saw the laser. When the battle finally ended he sighed in relief and locked himself in his room, a pillow over the window. Two cigarettes shed their ash as he smoked hard, anything to take the edge off. It’s alright; he can’t get you in here.

At least they won the battle. Yet not once was a death of his caused by the Sniper, and somehow that worried him more. He lit another cigarette. Behind the pillow and through the closed window he heard foot steps. The rest of the night was spent in the bathroom.

“The hell you doin in here, loser?”

Two walked in to get ready for bed, the Engineer and Scout. Both glared at the twitchy Spy leaning against the corner. 

“I, um, just trying to relax.”

“Yeah, bet you are.”

With a kick, the Scout tripped the Spy. Laughter fell on him from both as he tried to stand back up.

“Hey screw up!” The Engineer frowned down at him. “How bout you sap somethin’ fer a change? Maybe we can win more than once a week!”

Another kick left him down, but he managed to crawl to the door a bit before successfully regaining footing. Reluctantly he made it to his room, not about to argue with the two men. The window had been opened and the pillow placed back on his bed. No sign of the bastard, yet the scene left the Spy even more on edge. With a sigh he sat down on the bed, returning the pillow. 

\-----------

Long nights and even longer days blended together. Sleep came hard or not at all. He found himself improving, if only a little. A full backstab, even on a distracted heavy, was something. Pity he seemed to spend more time in respawn then stalking a target.

Every battle he saw the heart aimed on his body. Ignoring it became the best course of action. Shoot me if you want, I don’t care. Then one day he stood near the end of battle, fiddling with his watch. The cloud puffed to life and concealed him, but it was too late.

“Hey, luv.”

The voice stopped him cold.

“Heh, don’t worry. Oi still see yeh.”

The RED Sniper circled his invisible form. He had decided to take an alley way and now had only one way to go: through the Sniper or into the waiting arms of a murdering RED Heavy. The rifle of the Sniper was pointed down but that could easily change. 

He feared to say anything, engage with the man at all. A hand reached out for his arm. In a flash he pulled out his gun but dropped in his nervousness. IT fell to the ground and cackled into view, no longer hidden by the field. The Sniper stared down at it.

“Bloody hell yer cute.”

That warm smile again, eyes staring at what should be there. The bell rang for the end of battle. RED had one. Out of instinct, the Spy darted away leaving foot prints. The lazor followed, finding him in his hiding space as RED celebrated. A Medic found him this time.

Another day, another battle. He could ignore that little heart as it traced over his chest, but never the figure following him in the dark passage ways and buildings. After every battle the Sniper seemed to be right behind him with a smile. Out of some grace he was able to avoid. Not today.

After battle he lay on the ground, a leg torn open from several rounds of mini gun fire. As all important left his body he grew dizzy. A figure approached, something in his hand. Limbs weary he passed out. As if his team would patch him up. He dream of being captured and left in a room alone with that Sniper and his staring eyes. 

“S’ok luv. Yer ok.”

The face appeared before his eyes as he woke up, eyes wide, smile curled with an insane glow.

“Please, please just kill me.”

His request was met with a chuckle. Something didn’t feel right, something awful. It took him a moment to realize the Sniper wore his tie around his neck like a scarf. Shuddering, he found out his suit jacket had been removed and all that he had on was his shirt, the first few buttons opened. The Sniper held him up as he sat, a hand around his neck. A cigarette was inserted into his mouth from the Sniper’s already lit.

“There yeh go. Feelin better?”

As a matter of fact he was, at least physically. His leg had been healed by a medi kit and the Sniper. Looking down revealed something worse than the tie and the cigarette. Rope wrapped around his arms, binding them to his chest. With a shake, the Spy glanced up at his captor, terrified of the intense eyes.

“Yeh kept runnina way!” The bushman spoke in a frantic tone, nervous, or on the edge of a break down. “Had to tie yeh down so Oi could talk to yeh!”

“Wh, why? Why do you want to talk to me?”

The grin grew wider. The Spy found himself pulled closer to the wild man. On his neck, fingers stoked the back of his mask. With a twitch, the Sniper turned around and produced a bouquet of flowers, yellow and fresh. His head leaned forward, close than before.

“Oi wanna stick me penis in yeh!”

The last two words came out louder, forced in tone as the Sniper spouted out his admittance. This only made the Spy shake more, under the gaze of the smiling, eager bushman. He looked down at the flowers then up the Sniper then back down. In the center of the soft petals sat a severed finger, just as fresh. Blood dripped down. Unable to register the scene, the Spy glanced back up but found it hard to make eye contact.

“You, you what?” Words stuttered out, not sure what to say. “I, you, but.”

The hand on his neck stroked an ear.

“Jus think about it, ok?”

Uncomfortable silence followed while the Sniper stared at him, a grin displaying his sharp canines. Things began to make sense, though in a horrible way. The heart, the stalking, the presence outside his room. At length he managed an awkward smile.

“O, ok.”

With that, the ropes were untied. The pair stood up, Sniper helping Spy, every cheery. The coat was returned around his shoulders with a pat. He didn’t feel up to asking for the tie. The spy felt the bouquet shoved into his grip while the taller man watched.

“Well. Um.” The Spy looked around, wondering if anyone say. Not a soul in site since the battle ended. “I guess, I’ll be going.”

The hand finally left his neck as he stepped away, wanting to keep an eye on the Sniper. His pace grew into more of a jog at the Sniper’s last line. Flowers trailed behind him as he ran.

“See yeh later, luv!”

\------------

Such a smell, such a warmth. When the Sniper slowly removed the tie from the unconscious Spy all manner of dirty thoughts entered his head. There he sat, so close, so helpless. Just a little more. Shaking hands undid the jacket, folding it up on a crate. Further, just an inch. His pants tightened as he watched the man breathe slowly, calm, mouth slightly open. Fingers fumbled with the buttons. Just two. He had to control himself. Chest hair peeked out, the scent of that man meeting his nose. His fits clenched around the tie.

That night, back in his van he held it. The Spy had left it just for him to have in his memory. It smelled like him, smooth like he imagined his skin would be. The Sniper bit his lip and finished removing his pants. Fully naked now with an errection hardened by hours of thinking of his Spy. He gave the tie a long sniff and wrapped his fingers around the shaft. Only four fingers, gliding up to the tip to meet with presume. One finger, the ring, had been cut off at the second knuckle. The body shuddered at the idea of his cock against the other man, those lips around it.

Crimson red painted his cheeks and nose, even the tip of his ears. A long, heavy exhale. His other hand gripped the tie, rubbing it against his hairy chest, then upward to his cheek. A soft kiss against the fabric. Though safe and alone in his van he whispered his wished to it.

“S,spook. Wanna carve you roight up.” His voice wavered, broken as he pounded his erection harder. “Hold yeh inme arms Oi pound yeh, yer legs over me shoulders.” He exhaled again, hot and shaking. “Treat yeh roight too. Cuddle yeh all noice, let yeh enter me. Suck that piece of yers. Kiss and keep yeh close.”

A moan broke his confessions. Head jerking back he released to the image of that man in bed with him, naked and needing. Finished, he rolled into his side, cuddling the tie with his nose. He slept with it every night.


End file.
